


you get stuck on me and don't know why

by youremyqueen



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: Alcohol, Casual Sex, F/M, Obsessive Behaviour, POV Male Character, POV Third Person, Prompt Fic, Season/Series 03, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-04
Updated: 2012-04-04
Packaged: 2017-11-03 01:22:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/375502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youremyqueen/pseuds/youremyqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tuesday night, or Wednesday morning, maybe, he stands outside of her house with three quarters of a bottle of gin and nothing to do but stare at her front door.</p><p>Written for youcallitwinter's song lyrics ficathon on lj, prompt was: <i>'cause i like you, maybe i'm just like you</i>, just impolite - plushgun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you get stuck on me and don't know why

Monday, she fucks him in her living room after college. Anthea's not home, but he's more or less certain that Effy would have straddled him on the coffee table even if she had been. In fact, if she'd had an audience, she might have been more enthusiastic about it.

Tuesday, she ignores him in class, leans her head on her hand and stares at the board with the wide-eyed, enraptured sort of look that he knows she only gets when she's high. She lets Panda scribble something on her arm at lunch, lets half the green see up her dress during a spliff break, but she doesn't let him look her in the eyes.

Tuesday night, or Wednesday morning, maybe, he stands outside of her house with three quarters of a bottle of gin and nothing to do but stare at her front door. One of the neighbors yells something at him from an upstairs window half an hour before the sun comes up, and he responds by stumbling drunkenly and vomiting into one of the bushes.

He skips college Wednesday and ignores a call from J.J. in favor of having in-depth conversations with Effy's automated voicemail message.

Thursday she follows him after class for a few blocks, not bothering to pretend that she isn't. Once they hit the pier he slows down, waits until there aren't many people around, and then stops, spins around, and grabs her. She lets herself be grabbed.

"You think I wouldn't notice you or somethin', Eff?" he asks, knows his breath smells like salt and beer.

She shrugs, smirks in that way she does, and say, "You don't notice a lot of things, Cook."

His brow creases and he spits on the sidewalk just for something to do. She doesn't blink.

"Fuck off," he says, lightly and with no conviction, and she grabs him by the collar of his jacket and kisses him hard, shoving against his lips and slamming his back into the wall of a boarded-up store that's had a _Going Out Business Sale_ sign on it since 1998. She tastes like nicotine and day-old lipgloss and he groans into her mouth.

When she pulls back, he can feel saliva on his chin and a smile on his lips. "I notice things," he tells her, and she doesn't say anything, just pulls down his fly and slips a hand into his jeans.

Friday, he stands outside her house again, this time with vodka. And maybe, just maybe, she's standing at her bedroom window, sipping from Tony's old flask and staring back out at him with a slight smile on her lips - but, either way, he doesn't notice.


End file.
